Page 113 of Shadowface

“I’m not giving you an extension,” he says and goes back to clicking away on his computer, but the smirk on his face is so adorable.

He seems to love my misery in my inability to pass this class.

“I didn’t ask for one,” I respond curtly and position the heavy textbook on my lap. “I guess I’ll just fail.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes and eventually, I curl up while he works and I read. My father was known throughout the field, a sought-after practitioner who worked for the federal government and focused exclusively on the most extreme cases. His theories, I now realize, were based on unethical test subjects.

I am an unethical test subject.

My eyes flutter to Lincoln, curiosity burning in me. “You’re building off one of his theories for your thesis. You’re not only protecting me, you’re also using me.”

He doesn’t respond. Almost like the robot he is, he keeps his composure. “Don’t lie to me right now, Lincoln.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not capable of lying—I’m not built that way. Lying serves me no purpose.”

“Well then, tell me the truth. I want to know everything. Who the Order of the Shadows really are, and what you want from me.”

He turns to face me. “You can’t use a willing participant. And you, baby girl, are a willing participant, aren’t you? All this time, and you’ve not run from me once.”

He’s not wrong.

“What is it? What is it about me that’s so enticing?”

His eyes flash. “You understand exactly what is so enticing about you. You’re not stupid.”

My heart tightens, like a curling black smoke wraps around it and seeps into every vein in my body. I think of my younger self, waiting for him. Is this why I’m not afraid of him, despite what logic dictates?

He shuts his computer and walks to his dresser. “At first, I was curious if you were like your father, but then you started showing signs of her, and that got me thinking…”

I look up at Lincoln, waiting for him to finish his sentence, and startle as he’s suddenly a few feet closer. He’s holding his glasses in his hand. I stare into his eyes and he blinks a few times.

And then I realize it’s not Lincoln. His eyes are lighter and he’s grinning in a way Lincoln doesn’t.

“Mikael,” I whisper, almost relieved to see him. With really beautiful eyes and lashes that make my skin melt.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

His entire demeanor shifts, and it’s clear Lincoln is gone.

He walks toward me and my breath hitches. My pussy is so raw, and I can still taste his cum. Mikael is ravished—he can’t seem to get enough of me, whether he’s fronting or not.

He pushes me down on the bed. “You were so easy, Summer. So pure and perfect, and so willing to open your legs for me. I knew you were like her from the second I saw you.”

“Who?” I whisper.

But I know who. The picture on the wall upstairs…

Shadowface 1979.

He studies me, his face a mocking grin. He bites his lip as if enjoying the inner struggle within me. “Your grandmother laid waste to a lot of people, baby.”

I clench my fists. “No. You’re wrong. My father, I can see that, but my grandmother was gentle. She wasn’t capable of it.”

He slides a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Your grandmother was evil and psychotic,” he says softly. “She enjoyed it, because her mind was poisoned. Just like yours is.”

My inner rage flares inside me.

“You’re lying. You’re lying because you’re sad and broken and you want company.”